


The Confidante

by Airelle



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Humor, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 14:12:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2071326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airelle/pseuds/Airelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock has a problem, and he's asking McCoy's help with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Confidante

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Le Confident](https://archiveofourown.org/works/332328) by [Airelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airelle/pseuds/Airelle). 



> This is my own translation of the story I wrote back in 1990 for the French K/S fanzine LES JUMEAUX DE L'APOCALYPSE N° 1, under the name of T'Zorro.  
> Thank you to my beta-readers for making this translation better! All remaining mistakes are mine.

When Leonard McCoy, Chief Medical Officer of the USS Enterprise, got the call from Spock of Vulcan, First Officer of aforementioned starship, he was rather stunned. It was a well-known fact that Spock - despite his numerous qualities - positively hated medical examinations. The Vulcan always assured McCoy that his potions gave him bouts of nausea. He had even been known to resort to tricks really unbecoming a Vulcan to postpone the regular mandatory exam, which in his opinion only served to prove he was in excellent health and did not need the good doctor’s dubious services.

  
So McCoy’s extreme surprise stemmed from the fact that Mr. Spock had just called to ask for an appointment! Spock’s voice had been a bit unsteady, and McCoy had immediately deducted that the Vulcan was on the edge of panic. Of course, he always manifested panic in a very subdued way, but McCoy was conversant in Spock-interpretation. _He’s not going to fool me for one second,_ he thought when he saw Spock entering into sickbay, having requested an immediate interview.

  
“Well, Mr. Spock, let’s go into my office. I am stunned that for once I did not have to pursue you all over the ship to get you in there. Why are you here?”

  
“Dr. McCoy, I trust you completely. The reason of my presence is confidential, and I would respectfully request you to assure me that you will keep our interview secret.”

  
“Spock! Of course, you know that professional confidentiality is, well, both professional and confidential, so it means it will be, well, secret.” McCoy had slept very poorly the night before and his mind was a bit fuzzy.

  
Spock’s right eyebrow went up by 2,4 millimeters. That denoted surprise in the Vulcan. _Half a millimeter more, and it will be panic,_ thought the good doctor. _God forbid!_

  
“In fact, Dr. McCoy, I am not here – entirely – exactly - for a health concern. Although the matter is… somewhat… related to, ah… I… Well…

  
“Okay, Spock, spit it out.”

  
“Doctor?”

  
“Figure of speech, Spock. All right. I do promise that our interview will remain absolutely confidential. Well, what did you want to talk to me about?”

  
“Doctor, do you know what the date is?”

  
“The date?”  
McCoy affected the very professional and pensive look he’d taken to show the world whenever there was something he didn’t understand at all. Which occurred – sometimes.

  
“The date?” he repeated, while wild thoughts ran around unchecked in his mind. _Here we are! Spock has blown a gasket; he’s definitely gone over the edge. I knew it – I knew – he wasn’t perfectly well-balanced, mentally. But here we are, he’s asked for a confidential interview to ask me about ‘the date’. Jim, I must warn Jim!_

  
It should be noted that McCoy, despite his inner turmoil, didn’t let anything show on his face. Nonetheless, Spock, who knew him well, thought that he had just taken on the professional and pensive look that he sometimes affected whenever…  
“The date, doctor,” continued Spock. “If you remember, six years eleven months and two days ago, we were on Vulcan for my… unfulfilled… wedding. You know that we Vulcans do not like to speak about these things, so I’d rather do it with someone who already knows, and who was my witness at the ceremony. You know that I have to take steps to ensure my survival, as the time is almost upon me again.”

  
McCoy was stunned. He had never expected this to happen. _Good, he hasn’t taken leave of his senses! The date! Of course! What was I thinking?_

  
“Yes, Spock, of course, the Pan Forr, uh, I mean –”

  
“Doctor, this is the first story where you are semantically so confused. Is the Vulcan reproductive cycle so disturbing to you?”

  
“Uh, no, Spock, not at all,” lied McCoy. “Well, it is, a bit disturbing, I mean, but not as disturbing as it is for you. Uh, why do I feel that I have my foot in my mouth here?”

  
“Doctor, I can assure you that that particular appendage of yours is still in its proper place and has not been inserted in your mouth,” said Spock, puzzled. “But to the matter at hand. If I cannot get my end away in the next fifteen days, I shall die. Literally.

  
“Uh, get… your end away, Spock?”

  
“Is it not the proper term? I, ah, borrowed it from Nurse Chapel’s mind, as I met her, just before entering sickbay.”

  
“Oh, in this case, yes, the term is adequate, Spock. But it may not be… the scientific one, if you see what I mean.”

  
“Oh? And what would the scientific term be?”

  
McCoy found himself at a total loss: ‘fuck’, ‘make love’, ‘copulate’ and ‘get laid’ simultaneously sprang to his mind, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember which one was the technical term.

  
“Never mind, Spock. I understood exactly what you meant. So, you have to –?”

  
“Yes. I asked to meet you to verify whether I have chosen adequately.”

  
“Chosen? Adequately?”

  
“Dr. McCoy, it is undeniably a loss of time to hear you repeating systematically the last words I have said. Echolalia is not considered as a sign of great intelligence.”

  
“Echo yourself. Chosen, you said? You’ve chosen – someone?”

  
“Yes. As you are aware, the act of ‘getting one’s end away’ – there was still a question in his tone when he used the expression – necessitates two participants. At least. I wanted to ask you whether you thought that I have made a viable choice, and if you think I should ask to the person I have chosen to… get their end away… with me.”

  
“Spock.”

  
“Yes.”

  
“You are a very attractive man. Young, handsome, a bit mysterious. No woman on this ship would be able to resist you. Christine, for instance, would sell her soul to the devil to get you in her bed! Whoever she is, she won’t refuse you.”

  
“Dr. McCoy. I never said that this person was a woman.”

  
McCoy’s jaws dropped open, the neural signals which normally kept it closed having deserted it to try and help the doctor’s vacillating mind. McCoy was a broad-minded kind of guy, or so he thought, but this – this was a bit…

  
Suddenly, he understood. Of course! _What was I thinking? It is quite obvious. Those two are made for each other. Alexander and Hephaestion, Merlin and Arthur, Cesar and Cleopatra, Mickey Mouse and Minnie. Yes, yes, of course!_

  
“Spock, you were right to come and see me. I think you made a good choice. No, don’t say anything; I know who you have in your sights. I’m sure he will accept you. It’s fairly obvious, anyway.”

  
“Are you sure? I thought his behavior did not show it at all. He is a rather secretive and guarded man.”

  
“Right, right. But one has to see beyond mere appearances. Then, there’s this special way he has of looking at you.”

  
“If you say so, Doctor. I have hesitated a lot. I am still hesitating, and that is why I need your advice. He’s a man with huge responsibilities aboard this ship –“

  
“Yes, yes!”

  
“And I would not want to disturb him and prevent him from accomplishing adequately his…”

  
“…vital duties?”

  
“Yes, indeed.”

  
“But maybe he is a bit too reserved, too lonely, Spock? Maybe he needs to be shown that someone truly cares about him. That could only help him accomplish his duty, not hinder him.”

  
“Maybe, Doctor. We have a lot of interests in common. But I do have one problem.”

  
“Yes?”

  
“He can be… dissipated."

  
“Dissipated?"

  
“Doctor, you did it again.”

  
“Did it? Again?”

  
“And again. Please, Doctor…”

  
“Hmm. He is… ? And that annoys you?”

  
“Of course. A Vulcan conjugal link is exclusive, absolute, definitive, irreversible, definitive, incorruptible, indissoluble, definitive and radical. Moreover, I am as jealous as a kangaroo.”

  
“Tiger, Spock, tiger.”

   
“Tiger. You understand the problem.”

  
“Hmmm. But if he is sincerely in love with someone – and I do think he is sincerely in love with you – he will be able to renounce his… other pleasures, and commit himself to you. Definitively, irreversibly, absolutely, and so on. In fact, I believe he is a love-starved soul, and even a bit of a romantic. Yes, you should go for it, Spock!”

  
“There is something else, Doctor.”

  
“Yes?”

  
McCoy was starting to find quite tiresome to be used as an Agony Aunt by a Vulcan in (almost) heat.

  
_What now? he wondered. Does he want my blessing? To ask me for his hand?_

  
“Sometimes, he drinks quite immoderately.”

  
 _Immoderately!_ thought McCoy. _Only a Vulcan could put it so quaintly. What have I done to deserve this?_

  
“Alcohol can be a way to assuage loneliness, Spock. Once he’ll have you, he won’t need to drink anymore.”

  
 _No_ , thought McCoy uncharitably. _He won’t need to drink anymore – even if Jim has never been one to get drunk_ that _often. With you in his bed, he will be bored to such an extent that he’ll have no time left for anything else._

  
“I do think you are right, Doctor. The last thing I have to consider in this respect is that he is somewhat older than me. Do you think that…?”

  
 _Older?_ thought McCoy, surprised. _Jim is four years younger than he! Ah… Of course. Relative age. With his Vulcan life expectancy, Spock is, in fact, much younger than Jim. But this is a difference which makes no difference. Jim won’t mind.”_

  
“No, Spock, this is not a problem. A few years are meaningless wherever true love is involved. And it is true love, isn’t it? Despite all your tall talk about the ‘necessity for survival’?”

  
“I must admit it is, Doctor, even if this is a rather un-Vulcan way to be.”

  
“And how long have you felt like this?”

  
“From the day we met,” admitted Spock, with the Vulcan equivalent of dreamy eyes.

  
“Love at first sight, was it, Spock?”

  
“That human expression is adequate. But I thought of going further about my attraction to this scientific, logical, methodical mind…”  
 _It is true that Jim’s got all those qualities,_ thought McCoy, _even if he hides them well under the outward appearance of impulsivity and intuition…_

  
“…only after the biological imperatives of the Pon Farr came over me again,” finished Spock.

  
“Well, your problem is solved then, Spock. Are you going to approach him now?”

  
“You convinced me, Doctor.”

  
“Good! I’m glad you came to a decision. Really, I am very happy for both of you, Spock.”

  
“Doctor McCoy, I thank you for your help. My last doubts have been banished. I will be able to answer the call of my heart and assuage the needs of my physiology. It is a very satisfying, economical solution.”

  
“Go ahead, Spock, don’t wait, go talk to him.”

  
“Yes, Doctor McCoy. I will presently go and make my declaration to Mr. Scott.”

  
With these words, Spock left McCoy’s office, a half-smile on his usually stern face. McCoy was so flabbergasted his jaw began to gape again. He heard Spock muttering to himself: “… jealous as a kangaroo… must warn him… thanks to McCoy… understood…”

  
McCoy sat himself abruptly at his desk, his hands coming up to cover his face.

  
He’d never been so clueless in his whole life!

The end


End file.
